Old Bad Habits Die Hard
by Darke Angelus
Summary: You don't honestly think a person as composed and careful as Aaron would immediately head on out with an unknown partner on a real recruiting mission, do you? Daryl doesn't know it, but there has to be an evaluation performed first. It doesn't end well for either of them.


The motorcycle wasn't attractive by any stretch of the imagination. It was a mish-mash of parts and cobbled together to form a machine that no reputed dealer would have ever stepped forward to claim as their own. It was fearsomely loud, had at least three contrasting coats of paint, and jury-rigged to hold gear no sane owner would have seen fit to strap onto it. But could it run?

You bet your tits. The fucker could fly.

Daryl was on his third lap around the town of Alexandria when he spotted Aaron waving a make-shift flag (a linen napkin) from the garage. Grumbling, he shifted down and pulled into the driveway next to the battered red and white Chrysler Eric had nicknamed "The Monstrosity".

"What?" He shouted above the blaring muffler.

Rather than shouting back, Aaron made the slashing motion to his throat with his thumb. Generally, he was a pretty mellow guy but Daryl could see the irritation on his face and took the hint. He shut off the engine. "I was jus tryin it out," he said in lame defense; like a little kid who'd been caught driving his dad's car.

"I didn't mind the first lap. Or even the second," Aaron said in that smooth husky voice of his. "The third was a stretch. It's past nine o'clock at night and I'm not popular with the neighborhood as it is."

Looking around, Daryl saw that lights were on in a number of houses with dark silhouettes standing behind them, watching. He suddenly felt self-conscious. This was almost creepier than being out alone in the woods. At least walkers didn't group together and gossip like the people in this stupid town did. "Eh, screw 'em," he muttered, walking the bike into the garage.

"No thanks. They're not my type," Aaron said, pulling the garage door down and knowing that by doing it he was just fueling even more talk around town. Except for Daryl's group, the rest of Alexandria seemed to be under the impression at he, Daryl and Eric were all humping like rabbits in the same goddamn bed. Idiots. "How'd it run? It sounded smooth enough."

"Yeah, sparkplugs are decent. I've jury-rigged the muffler all I can. Friggin carb's too powerful for the exhaust. Sucker's got juice, though. It might draw the walkers out, but least I can leave 'em in the dust no prob." He was aware that the younger man was staring at him in surprise and immediately went on the defensive. "...What?"

"I think that's the most I've ever heard you speak at one time."

Daryl tried to pass it off with a shrug. "It's jus nice to have a bike again is all. Had my brother's for a while, but it wasn't really mine. It-" It dawned on him that bringing up his Neo-Nazi older brother might just lead to a whole other line of questions he wasn't comfortable to answer. "It was ugly an jus as loud."

"Nothing could be louder than that." Eric said from the doorway that led into the house. He was on his crutches and was putting minimal weight on the cast that covered his left foot. "Anyone who was asleep sure isn't now. If we had a phone it would be ringing off the hook!"

"Awright! Stop naggin me. Ya ain't my wife!"

Eric immediately opened his mouth for a come-back and Aaron passed him one of his subtle head shakes before the words were out of the redhead's mouth. Getting the message, his boyfriend rolled his eyes and retreated back into the house. "Think it's ready for work?"

Daryl had to submerge a pang of excitement. Considering all of the setbacks he'd endured getting this pile of junk assembled, he was eager to see what it could do out on an actual open road. "Sure. When?"

"First thing tomorrow morning. C'mon in, we'll chart it out now where to go."

"You gotta system?" Daryl asked as they walked into the house. The archer's right foot barely touched the tile floor before Eric shouted: "Boots!" and, grumbling again, Daryl unlaced his shoes and left them in the garage. All things considered, putting up with the small redhead's banter was a small price to pay for free room and board. The irritating little bugger could cook better than Gordon Ramsey (or so Aaron said, Daryl had no clue who that guy was), and the meals were the best the older man had enjoyed since, well... since ever.

"Oh, it's an extremely complex system," Aaron said, laying out a well-used map on the dining room table. "Complex algorithms are involved. Mathematical computational data. Geo-centrically located satellite tracking. It's all super high tech."

He was saying it so straight-faced that Daryl had to look at him closely. "...You ain't serious?"

"Mr. O'Neil. My computer, please," Aaron said, holding his hand out.

"With pleasure, Mr. Merchant. Be careful, though. It's been carefully calibrated so don't jostle it," his partner said, setting the device carefully into his hand.

When Daryl saw what Aaron sat down in the circle that marked Alexandria's boundary, he couldn't believe it. "That's your system?!" He pointed at the multi-colored Twister spinner.

Aaron couldn't help grinning. "Hey. It's worked extremely well for us so far."

"We keep the mat in our bedroom," Eric spouted cheerfully and received another one of those exasperated looks from his lover.

"You guys are nuts," Daryl concluded, but he had to fight the smile that was trying to tug at the corner of his mouth. It was kind of refreshing to have people feel at ease enough around him to crack jokes. Shame it had to be two gay guys. He didn't really mind, but it had brought Merle's voice back inside of his head, taunting him as if he were here in real life. "Okay then, give the sucker a whirl."

"You do the honors," Aaron said. "You're the new hire."

Feeling like an idiot, Daryl flicked the ridiculous spinner as hard as he could.

"Red Left Foot," Eric said, when it came to a stop. "Looks like you're heading west."

"It's as good a direction as any. I'm going to turn in for an early night." He gave Eric a quick peck on the cheek and nodded at Daryl. "Try to do the same."

"That's it?" Daryl asked when the taller man turned to leave. "Don't we have to, uhm, y'know, prep for this thing?"

"There's nothing really to prepare for," the recruiter said. "You'll take point when we leave. We'll head west for a while and when you see me flash my headlights you'll stop. We'll take it from there. Have a good night," he said and walked out of the room and went upstairs.

Daryl was left turning to Eric for answers when, under normal circumstances, he went of his way to avoid being alone with him. "What the hell-?"

"What's wrong?"

"I just thought..." He struggled to find the right words to express his confusion. "He's usually such a chatty fella. I thought there'd, I dunno, be more to this is all."

"Of course there is," Eric huffed. "But what would be the point in filling your head with all sorts of bothersome instructions and cautions now? It's best to wait until you're actually out there doing it. I've been his partner for over a year. Aaron has a very set routine. As long as you follow it, you'll do fine. Just..."

"Jus what?"

The redhead considered him for a moment and then said in an almost pleading tone, "Please don't make him angry."

Daryl snorted. "Does he even have a temper? I ain't seen no sign of it."

"There are several sides to him you should know about, Daryl. You've already seen his Jehovah Witness impersonation."

"You mean that act in the barn? Yeah."

"It's not an act per se," Eric explained. "It's simply meant to be as non-threatening an approach as possible. In your group's case, I would say it worked extremely well. Wouldn't you?"

Daryl didn't have a come-back for that one. Aaron had effectively split the group down gender lines, something that had never happened before. Merle used to say that fags were like catnip to the ladies and damned if the ignorant bigot hadn't seemed to be right in that particular case. Michonne and Maggie had come close to going to the mat on Aaron's behalf, almost causing Rick to stroke out at the mutiny. If the recruiter had come up to them with his usual gear of machete, suppressed rifle and the barest hint of stubble, things probably would have turned out differently.

Hell, Daryl knew they would've. All things considered, the "Let me spread to you the word of Jesus Christ" look and approach had definitely been the lesser of two evils. "Okay, you got me there. What else?"

"His usual personality is what you've seen around the house and, I suppose, when you've both been out there... hunting rabbits. Honest, glib, and, well to me anyway, simply adorable. When he goes quiet, leave him be. It means he's puzzling over a problem and trying to come up with a strategy."

"Christ. I'm beginnin to wonder if I'm supposed to be writin this shit down."

"No, that's all of it."

"What about the angry part?"

Eric frowned. "I can't really explain it. There's no real precursor. Just be aware that he does have a temper and try not to set him off."

"An' if I do?"

"Duck."

* * *

Daryl was usually a notable early riser. It came from making sure that he was always positioned in a spot where the first rays of dawn were sure to hit him. The garage was located in the back of the house and pitch black by the time night fell, unless the lights were turned on. He had let himself become accustomed to his padded cot with remarkable ease. To say he was startled when Aaron pulled open the garage door was an understatement. With remarkable speed, he dropped to the floor, pulled out his crossbow from under the bed and whirled around, sighting through the crosshairs.

"Whoa!" The younger man froze in his tracks, hands up. "It's just me."

Daryl grunted, lowering his weapon. "Ya damn near got a bolt to the eye. Don't be sneakin up on a fella like that."

"I opened the garage door of my house. It's hardly sneaking around," he said, shaking off the near-miss with remarkable ease. He walked inside and went over to the supply rack and pulled a bottle of motor oil from the shelf. In the background, the hood of The Monstrosity was popped open. "The guest bathroom has fresh towels set out for you. There're still some muffins leftover from yesterday for breakfast."

"'Kay. Thanks." He was still in the habit of sleeping in his tattered clothes. He slipped his bare feet into his dirty shoes and let himself into the house only to receive the shrill reprimand from Eric: "What did I tell you about those disgusting boots?!"

"Aw Christ," Daryl grumbled, throwing the shoes behind him through the doorway and slamming the door shut. From inside the house, the pair could be heard bickering back and forth.

Playing witness to the whole amusing scene, Aaron betrayed a quiet laugh as he went back to checking the fluid levels of the car. That was when he saw the scrap of paper tucked under one of the windshield wipers. He pulled it free and shoved it into his back pocket, unread, and went back to work; his brief lapse of humor forgotten.

Before they left, Daryl did a thorough fluid and brake check just as Aaron had with the car. Aaron was still lost in thought has he watched his new partner do the finishing touches on his ride and visibly flinched when a hand touched his arm. It was only Eric handing him a travel mug. His eyes immediately scanned his face. "Are you alright? You've been unusually quiet. Even for you."

"You talk enough for the pair of us," the taller man quipped, smiling.

The question was as point blank and no-nonsense as ever: "What's wrong?"

"I'm surprised you're not putting up more of a fuss," Aaron chose to say, instead of bringing up the piece of paper that seemed to burn like a brand in his back pocket. "Y'know, my teaming up with him." He jerked his chin in Daryl's direction.

Eric followed his gaze and, remarkably, the visible tension in his pale face eased. "After that horrible Francine fiasco, I knew I had to step up to the plate but, I also knew I would never be very good at it."

"Eric-"

"I'm not a physically-strong person and we both know it. That's why I had the desk job at HQ while you were out trudging through those mosquito-infested hellholes. One bout of malaria would have probably killed me. How many times did you get it?"

"Lost count," Aaron admitted. After a point, a seasoned aid worker just self-medicated and hoped it wouldn't interfere with getting the mission completed on time and on budget.

"Having me out there on recruiting runs made it difficult for you to focus. I knew that, too. You're over-protective."

Aaron wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close for a kiss on the lips. "I worry because I love you."

"I love you, too. Daryl will keep you safe. He's the perfect partner for you out there."

"Wow. I can't believe you just said that without the barest hint of jealousy."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh puh-leez. If he would've so much as tweaked my gaydar, I would have stabbed him with my fork the first time you invited him back for dinner. I don't know quite what he is, but he isn't one of us. That's for sure. I'm not worried that the two of you will go riding off into the sunset together."

Aaron scoffed. "You couldn't get my ass on that thing."

An amused sparkle lit his partner's eye that was a precursor to a sexual remark, so it was an almost merciful interruption when Daryl shouted, "Hey! We gonna get goin' or what?"

"My teammate beacons," Aaron said, stealing another kiss. "If we're back tomorrow, you'll know it was a good run."

Eric's face tightened up again. "And if you're back before tonight?"

Aaron glanced at him and then turned and headed for the car. "Then I'll just have to deal with it."

* * *

Daryl's hands were impatiently clenching the handlebars as they drove up to the reinforced gate. He watched Nicolas walk over and unlatch the heavy lock. "C'mon, c'mon," he muttered under his breath, his voice lost to the rumble of the bike idling between his legs.

Once the gate was pulled partially open, Daryl was off with a spinning back tire and blue smoke left in his wake as the bike practically leapt ahead, the front wheel jerking an inch or so off the ground like a horse eager to break the stable and run. He flipped through the gears with experienced ease, smirking at the rear view mirror at the sight of the front grill of Aaron's car quickly fading in the distance. Christ! To feel the wind pull his hair back from his face and listen to it whistle in his ears. It was as free as he'd felt in months.

He turned left down the highway that led west and just opened it up, gauging every little hiccup and wobble as corrections that would be made to the engine and suspension as soon as he got back to Alexandria. He drove in oblivious bliss for an unknown length of time before it dawned on him that he was supposed to be in a partnership and said partner was nowhere in sight.

Damn, this team-work thing is gonna be harder than I thought, he realized, slowing down and turning the bike around. The studded tires found excellent purchase on the side of the road and it was a good thing, too. The muffler was deafening and a walker lurched from the trees, attracted to the noise. Deliberately spinning his tires, Daryl showered the shambling dead man in dirt and took off with a satisfied snort.

About fifteen minutes later, he saw The Monstrosity parked next to an abandoned car. He pulled up along side of the wreck and found the younger man crouched behind the rear bumper. Nearby, two walkers had their head cleaved in half by the machete strapped to his hip. "Really? You're riskin yer life for a friggin license plate?"

"I lost my collection on North 23. Have to start over." Aaron pulled it free and proudly displayed it to him. Honestly, Daryl couldn't care less and certainly didn't understand how anyone could be so damned happy over a stupid piece of rusty metal.

"Ya already have one from Virginia. I've seen it on your wall."

"Not this one. It's a Jamestown Civil War commemorative plate. It's limited edition and-" He saw the look on the other man's face and stuffed it into his backpack. "-And you don't care. That's okay, but you'll have to grin and bear it. It's one of my quirks."

Daryl grunted. "Thanks for the tip."

"How's the bike work?"

The license plate was instantly forgotten. "She's got a few hiccups. Might be the plugs. Brakes are spongy. Might need to bleed the lines again. Jus a few little things but the bitch can move." He remembered its ownership before he'd fixed it up. "Thanks."

Aaron favored him with one of his humble smiles and headed for the car. "Try not to leave me in the dust this time. We're supposed to be scanning the woods for signs of survivors, not blasting past them."

The criticism didn't settle well with Daryl. "This ain't my first rodeo, man."

Aaron favored him with a level stare. "Mine, either."

"I know what I'm doin. Hell, been doin it practically since this shit broke out."

"And before that?"

"Eh?"

"Before this shit broke out, what were you doing?"

Daryl chewed the corner of his mouth as he often did when he was trying to come up with an answer that wasn't a shrug. He didn't figure,'Following my dickhead brother around and trying not to get my ass busted by the law' would be an acceptable response under these circumstances. Knowing what a smart guy Aaron was, Daryl figured that he already suspected some of that so he chose to stay quiet in the subject.

"I worked for an NGO in the Niger River Delta. That's in Africa," Aaron told him.

"I know where it is!" He lied.

"I was with an Operational unit. We delivered medical supplies to some places that didn't even have roads. I had a gun in my face at least every other week. I did that for three years before the outbreak started. So believe me when I say I have some experience in what I'm doing and how I go about it. It's not meant as a criticism on you or your experiences, Daryl. I just want you to follow my lead."

Daryl saw only frank honesty in that clean-shaven face. There didn't appear to be any duplicity to his words or actions, which was such a rarity to the older hunter. He was used to people always having an agenda. As loyal as he was to Rick and the others, he knew their union was borne out of necessity; for protection, security, back-up; so many things that were not even quantifiable. All Aaron wanted was a person to trust. Nothing more, nothing less. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't much to ask for.

Dropping his eyes under the pretense of fiddling with some part of the engine, Daryl nodded mutely.

"Okay, let's go," Aaron said and released a chuckle. "Hell, maybe I'll come across an Alaska plate. That's like my Holy Grail."

Whatever, Daryl thought, turning the bike around and watching in the mirror as Aaron got in the car and started the engine. This time he made sure to keep the car in his sights.

For about an hour, the pair drove without incident. The road had been cleared of crashed or abandoned cars pulled to the side, indicating that some of the Alexandrians had taken the time to tend to the main roads. Daryl thought that Aaron was going to pull over for every damned car they found and steal their plates but it was clear he had a keen eye only for specific ones. It obviously wasn't a recent hobby. The house he shared with Eric had walls full of plates from different states and even a Canadian province or two. He couldn't recall ever collecting anything because collections usually meant money and that wasn't something he'd ever had in abundance, although his old man had kept a collection of beer bottles on a shelf for some damned reason. Merle had liked certain Nazi memorabilia. Shocker.

Friggin Merle and his bigoted ways. If he was alive right now, he would have cleaned Aaron's clock and probably given Daryl's ass a kick or two and then rag on him for hanging out with a faggot. Hell, if he'd heard they were working together, he probably would have shot Aaron in the crotch. Just thinking about it made Daryl angry and anxious for no reason he could piece together. It was all a jumbled-up mess of a lifetime of bad habits, biased misinformation, and outdated family loyalty. He couldn't seem to shake it.

When he saw the headlights of the Chrysler flash on and off, he was in a bad mood. Thinking about his bully of an older brother didn't cause any other feelings. Not anymore. It was just resentment and confusion nowadays and his association with Aaron and, to a lesser degree, Eric, just made him feel worse about it. He waited for the Chrysler to pull up along side of him and looked down at the open driver's side window. "What?"

"Don't you see it? Look." Aaron was pointing ahead.

Daryl's sharp eyes scanned the road and then the tree line. It wasn't until he looked up that he saw a length of yellow ribbon fluttering in the breeze from a the upper part of a spruce. "So? Could jus be caution tape caught on a branch."

"Or it could be something else," Aaron said, pulling ahead and shutting off the car. He popped the trunk and stuffed the cardioid mike and a few other things from his supplies he kept in there into his backpack while Daryl parked the bike and hefted the crossbow from its unique holder in the back of the seat.

"What'd ya mean by that?" The hunter asked when they started walking up the road.

Aaron shrugged on his pack. "Maybe someone put it up high enough so that it wouldn't attract roamers. No harm in checking. It's part of the job."

Daryl silently accepted that but privately realized there was more to this type of recruiting approach than he'd originally thought. He'd become used to just spotting someone on the road and asking them The Three Questions before making his decision to whether or not bring them back to the prison. The thought of Aaron using these kind of covert tactics to watch him and his group just made him angrier. He rudely cut ahead and Aaron, to his credit, didn't protest.

Daryl saw indications of beaten down brush by the road almost beneath where the ribbon was strung. "Somebody was through here. Looks recent." He charged headlong into the heavy underbrush, ignoring the whispered cautions behind him. A path was clear as day to his sharp eyes. Recent movement and not by walkers. The dead often moved in random directions, always attracted to sounds and often leaving smears of gore or pieces of their decayed flesh on branches. This trail was direct and appeared well-used. A camp probably. Maybe made up on the spur of the moment because one of the group was injured and unable to travel. The thought of finding someone on his first time out to bring back to Alexandria made him reckless and he surged on. He barely registered Aaron's soft foot treads following closely behind him and the low voice telling him to slow down.

When they climbed a small rise, Daryl looked down at a clearing and saw two people dressed in dark coats sitting together along with someone in a sleeping bag. It was just as he'd figured. Someone was hurt and the group had stayed together to wait it out one way or another. He was going to start down the ridge and a hand gripped the sleeve of his coat to stop him. He turned around and locked eyes with Aaron for the first time since they'd left the road. "What?" He asked in annoyance, shrugging off that contact.

Aaron hauled him down until they were crouched in the brambles. "Now we wait and listen," he said, hauling out the mike and putting on the headset. "I used to have another one of these, but its in my old car on 23. You can have this-" He was handing a pair of binoculars over to Daryl but the older man slapped them aside in irritation.

"Don't need those. I got good eyesight."

Aaron's usual calm expression was beginning to tighten up. "You're not using it to look at them. You're looking for traps."

"Shit. It's plain as day what's goin on," he protested, gesturing down at the group.

"Nothing out here is what it seems. Not anymore. You have to start being more careful-"

"Fuck you," Daryl said, getting back to his feet. "I ain't nobody's bitch. Sure as hell ain't yours." He might have seen an expression of hurt cross Aaron's face at the accusation but he didn't dwell on it. Crossbow at the ready, he charged down the hill, calling to the three survivors.

There was a simple rope strung up around the makeshift camp, equipped with cans that would rattle if a walker came near. Daryl stepped over one with ease and slowly crept towards the trio. "Hey! I'm talkin to you! Don't make any moves."

There weren't any sudden moves. In fact, there wasn't any movement at all and that went beyond strange and immediately jumped straight up into danger territory. Daryl immediately brought up the crossbow and crept towards the camp, doing a slow circle to try and get a look at the faces.

"What the hell-?" He grumbled under his breath as the truth was revealed. He couldn't believe it.

A pair of mannequins, one male and one female, were dressed up in warm clothes and arranged to look seated beside each other. There was another form concealed in the sleeping bag and Daryl prodded it lightly with his foot, not getting any reaction and not expecting one. He reached down and flipped it over and barely had time to react as a booby trap went off, momentarily blinding him. "Shit!" He shouted, rubbing his eyes and blinking the spots from his eyes. When his vision cleared seconds later, he saw it was just a jury-rigged rat trap set to clamp down on a piece of flash paper.

"Congratulations," Aaron said nearby and Daryl whirled around to confront him. "You're dead."

"What the fuck-?!" Daryl thundered.

"Aiden Monroe lasted for two hours before he pulled the same stunt you did," the recruiter continued in that deceptively calm voice of his. "Nicholas became a nervous wreck whenever we went too deep in the woods. Blake... Hell, I fired him before we even got out of the gate. Francine lasted the longest and she was a great partner until she started on a crusade to try and convert me. After her came Eric." The calm facade dropped and he closed the distance between them. His face was still set in a neutral expression but his eyes had changed. The passive grey-blue had noticeably darkened in color.

Daryl realized the younger man was furious with him. His hand reflexively tightened around the stock of his crossbow. "You tricked me! What kinda game you playin at?" He shouted in frustration.

"The most serious game there is: Staying alive."

"This was all just a friggin test?!"

"Do you honestly think I'd pair up with a new partner without seeing how they'd work out first?" Aaron said in a hard voice. "It isn't just you at risk out here. It's both of us. Your bullshit just got your ass killed! If this had turned out to be an ambush, I would've been next. All because you couldn't spare even five minutes to fall back and check out the situation."

His eyes blazing in fury, Daryl glared hard at the younger man. Their heated face-off lasted for maybe a few tension-filled seconds before Aaron shook his head and turned around and marched back up the hill.

Standing alone in the camp, Daryl watched the younger man until he was out of sight and then looked resentfully down at the rat trap. This whole thing had been a simple test about exercising patience and he had seriously dropped the ball. He should have been pissed at the whole arrangement; Aaron setting up this fake site, probably jury-rigging that stupid Twister spinner to point in the direction he'd wanted it to, leading him out here and, finally, humiliating him in short order.

Faggot deserves an ass-whooping for that, voiced Merle in the back of his mind.

Except it wasn't Aaron to blame here and, deep down, Daryl knew that.

While he tried to puzzle out the whole thing, a walker came out of the woods, no doubt attracted to the commotion. Daryl raised the crossbow and put a bolt through its left eye. That should have ended it but, in a fit of sudden rage, he ran over and stabbed the carcass with his hunting knife in a flurry of jabs until he fell back in the dirt, breathing hard. He glanced back in the direction Aaron had gone and then let his head drop.

"Goddamn it," he murmured under his breath.

* * *

Aaron was sitting on the back step staring at the steel wall behind his property when Daryl showed up a few hours later, pulling his bike into the driveway beside The Monstrosity. He was surprised to see the man sitting out there to be honest. He shut off the engine and sat astride the bike for a moment before getting off and walking over. "Hey," he muttered.

Aaron didn't respond. He had a number of beers sitting on the grass between his bare feet (mostly empty) and wordlessly set one aside for him, but didn't look up. He just kept his eyes trained on that ugly 15-foot high barrier.

Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, Daryl saw the blinds of the office the couple shared being pulled open as Eric peered out, staring fretfully at his boyfriend. He looked relieved to see Daryl's return, but there was a surprising amount of worry on his normally pale face. He passed the archer a head nod towards Aaron and disappeared from view.

Moving closer, Daryl bent down and took the proffered beer and looked at it. It had a home-made label with a rough sketch of a zombie on the front and was titled "Roamer Piss". Like the wine the gay couple enjoyed, the beer was home-made. One of the residents of Alexandria had quite a talent for making spirits (it seemed like everyone had to have at least one sane hobby in these dark days), and was rumored to even have a fully operational still. So long as Aaron and Eric kept him in supply with wine kits and equipment they'd found during their recruitment runs, he kept their liquor cabinet well-stocked and it was a good thing, too. The pair went through a bottle of wine a night (sometimes two) whenever they were home recovering from a run. It wasn't Riesling or Pinot Noir, at least according to Eric, but it was better than nothing. Daryl just knew wines by their color; red or white, and he didn't have much of a preference to either so long as it was wet.

He popped the cap off the beer bottle and took a tentative sip. He blinked in surprise. "Huh. This ain't half bad."

Tipping his own bottle back as he drank, Aaron shrugged.

"We gotta talk, man."

"You're dead," the younger man said, his deep voice unusually rough. "There's nothing to talk about."

Growing angry, Daryl thought about that windy speech Rick had made a week ago in the barn about them being the walking dead. It hadn't sat well with him then and sure as hell didn't now. "I ain't dead. I'm standing right here, so you look at me dammit!"

A muscle jumped in the corner of Aaron's jaw before he finally did as ordered. Daryl was surprised to see the tracks of tears on his face. "I had high hopes we'd be able to work together. I really did. I never wanted Eric to be my partner. He's not a strong man, physically. Now he's laid up with a broken ankle. He could've been killed. That's on me." He jerked a thumb at his chest and fresh tears spilled from his eyes.

"That wasn't yer fault. S'not like you can do it alone."

"Except I'm going to. From here on out, that's how it has to be. I already told Deanna when I got back." He emptied his bottle and started on a fresh one. "You can keep the bike. Don't worry about that. And I made sure that you got another job. You're now Alexandria's hunter. The town can always use fresh meat to supplement our stock. There's really no one else who can-"

"Shut up. I'm workin with you. That's final."

Aaron hung his head and glared hard down at the ground.

"You listenin?" Daryl snapped at him. "Hell, it ain't like ya can even stop me. I'm just gonna follow you."

"Then I'll quit."

The archer wandered a short distance away, slapping his hands to his sides in frustration. "An here ah thought I was a dick when I was drunk. Yer bein a-a... Yer-"

"Irrational? Arbitrary? Quarrelsome?"

"An asshole! That's what ya are!"

Aaron suddenly got to his feet and turned to confront him. There were two exclamation points between his furrowed brows and his full bottom lip was tucked into a tight white line. He was just wearing a plain T-shirt that he usually wore under his plaid button-downs and Daryl could see his arms were firm with muscle and his fists were clenched. The man was taller, younger, and it was clear he was angry. If it came to a fist fight, Daryl was sure he could put him down, but from the looks of things it wasn't going to be without taking a few hard licks in the process.

A sudden thought came to him. It was something he never would have considered before their meeting in the barn. Very carefully, he raised his hands up to shoulder height. "Peace, man," he said. It was almost the same voice he had used on Buttons. "I ain't interested in a rumble. Just calm down. 'Kay?"

That nonviolent approach caught Aaron completely off guard, probably because he had never once been on the receiving end of it. For him, confrontations always went the same damned way: Him playing the pacifist with a weapon in his face. It was so unexpected, he blinked in surprise and his mouth dropped open in shock. He took a wandering step backwards and tripped over the step and fell down in the grass. When he realized what he had been about to do, he bowed his head and started crying.

Daryl slowly dropped his arms as he looked down at him. He chewed on the inside of his lip for a minute and then walked back to his bike, rummaging through the saddlebags.

A few minutes later, there was a metallic clatter as something landed on the grass. Aaron looked around and saw a pile of license plates littered beside him. His license plates. "Oh," he whispered in a wondering, awed voice. He looked up at Daryl who was beside him again. "You... found my car?"

"Wasn't hard to find. I could smell it long 'fore I saw it. What a mess. That's what ya get for lettin an Asian drive." The corner of his mouth threatened to lift up in a semblance of a smile. "Managed t'get that mike thing and some gear from the trunk, too, 'fore the herd showed up."

"Thank you, Daryl." Aaron began slowly flipping through the plates as if in a daze.

"So... we good?"

The younger man glanced at him and then turned back to the plates again. Daryl knew he didn't have to explain what he meant and he was a person who was used to long periods of silence. He decided to wait the other man out. It took awhile, but Aaron finally said, "I haven't had anyone die under my watch. I'm not going to risk it with you."

"Shit," Daryl said in disgust. "I'm sorry, okay? That's all yer gonna get outta me. I don't beg for nobody."

"I don't expect you to. You just don't get it. Bringing a group your size back to Alexandria was a major win for us. Not for your survivor skills. Not even for the experience you all have in your fields." Aaron took a deep breath and laid out the truth, at least in his own mind. "The most important thing of all is that you're breeders. Eric and me... we're expendable."

Daryl looked at him as if he was crazy. "You've got seniors livin here. You think their dried out ol' snatches 'r gonna squeeze out any kids?" When he didn't get a response he tried to hammer the point home. "You ain't expendable."

"We're gay. We're never going to add to the gene pool here. We're just a drain on resources for a place that's supposed to become a thriving community. This says it best." From his back pocket, he pulled out the note he had removed from the windshield wiper this morning and threw it at the archer.

Perplexed, Daryl opened it up. It had three blunt words written in red marker: DON'T COME BACK. "Who wrote this?"

Aaron offered a distracted wave. "I don't know. It's always in different colors. What's the difference anyway? It's how the whole damn town feels. Why do you think I want to get out of here as often as you do?"

"Eric know 'bout these?"

The recruiter shot him a hard look. "No. And you're not going to tell him. You hear me?"

Shoving the note into his vest pocket, Daryl wasn't sure what he was about to say when the back door suddenly opened. Eric stood there, braced on his crutches. His dark eyes took quick evaluation of the scene, gauging the situation carefully, before he looked down at his boyfriend and said in a low voice, "Deanna's here."

"Fuck," came the uncharacteristic response from the usually composed recruiter. "Tell her to go away."

"She's not budging. She insists on speaking to you." After a second's hesitation, he added; "And I really think that you should."

Aaron just squared his shoulders and didn't move. Hopping down the step on his one good foot, Eric sat down beside him. When Aaron suddenly pressed his face against his shoulder, Eric protectively wrapped his arms around him. "It's going to be alright, okay? You just worry too much. Everything's going to be all right, hon." He spared Daryl a nod and flashed a thumb's-up sign behind Aaron's back. It was clear he wanted to deal with the situation now. From the looks of things, this kind of moment didn't appear to be a first for either of them.

Troubled, the archer reluctantly turned and headed into the house. He spotted the Alexandria leader seated at the dinner table. Before she could even open her mouth, he snapped at her. "He ain't goin it alone. Screw yer hunter job. You make sure you tell 'im that."

"I am in complete agreement with you, Mr. Dixon," she said smoothly. "That's why I'm here. Don't you worry."

"I ain't worried," he grumbled, but the backwards glance he shot over his shoulder clearly said otherwise. He left through the front door and, when it slammed shut, Deanna turned around and looked at it. There was a hint of an amused smile on her face.

* * *

Carol found the archer hunkered down in the back corner of the porch of the main house that Rick's group had claimed when they were accepted into Alexandria. "I thought you and Aaron left this morning," she said in surprise.

"Uhm-hm," he grunted, chewing absently on his thumbnail.

"You're back already?"

"Had some problems."

"Problems like what?"

He just shrugged.

With a sigh, Carol leaned against the railing and crossed her arms. She was wearing one of her god-awful floral ensembles that hurt his eyes if he stared at her for too long. He settled for looking down at her shoes; not mud-caked combat boots anymore, but petite pink moccasins. Christ.

"What did you do?" She demanded in a hard voice.

He began fiddling with his crossbow as he muttered something under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Ah said, I might'a screwed things up," he said defensively, sparing her a glance through his tangled bangs before dropping his eyes to his weapon again. "I dunno for sure."

She sat down close beside him. "Tell me."

It was testimony to the depths of their friendship that the archer would even talk let alone go into detail about the events of that morning. Carol listened without interruption, tolerating the long gaps as her friend gathered his thoughts. Daryl wasn't great with communicating. He was normally as blunt with his words as he was with his gruff demeanor. The longer she listened, she had to concede there was a noticeable change to the way he now spoke and that was a very good thing to hear.

In the beginning, she hadn't been happy about his partnership with Aaron. Not one bit. To her and to Rick, the appointment of recruiter had seemed a convenient means to break up the triarchic leadership they had over their small group. The longer she listened, the more she began to suspect that Aaron and his partner might have more things in common with them than with Alexandria. Potential allies were in high demand these dark days. It went a long way in explaining why Daryl felt at ease in their company, and it spoke quite a bit about the gay couple in being so accepting of a man as complicated as he was. What initially had been suspicion on her part was now replaced by relief.

By the end of it, she had to admit: "Aaron's approach is smart."

Daryl scowled at her. "All that waitin around and listenin?" He released a dry snort. "S'not my style."

"No, I know your style. Go charging in and damn the consequences."

"Damn right."

"Except..." She cocked a wry eyebrow at him. "If you had gone along with his wait-and-listen approach, do you think you would have been captured so easily by Gareth? Would you have even gone near Terminus at all?"

He didn't answer. He didn't have to. They both knew the answer. If not for Carol blowing up the propane tank the second she had-

He didn't like to think about it too much, truth to tell. He stared off across the street where some kid was walking a black dog. It was still early in the afternoon. He was back to fiddling with his thumbnail again and she grabbed his hand before it went into his mouth. "What else is wrong?" she asked, eying him curiously.

"There might be another reason why I took off," he admitted. "I didn't like takin orders from him. Not cause they were stupid or cause I was bored." His mouth twitched. "It was cause he's gay."

She frowned. "I thought you didn't care what he was."

"Me neither," he grumbled. "But... back when I used t' hang with Merle we used to get all liquored up and then go lookin for shit t' get into. One of his favorite things was queer stompin-"

"Oh god," Carol muttered, wiping her face with a heavy hand. She knew where this was going.

"He'd find someone who just looked qu- funny or spot a pair holdin hands 'r something like that and just start with the insults. You know what he was like. Didn't take long for him to get t' usin his fists. More times than not... I joined in. Kinda had to." He looked miserably at Carol through the curtain of dark hair. "When I'm out there with Aaron, I think about what we did. What I did. It gets me all riled, but not at him. At Merle. 'Cause he was wrong!"

"You can't ever tell Aaron or Eric about any of that, Daryl."

"Hell, I know it. But alla that quiet and waitin around makes the memories come back an that makes me feel like dogshit. Can't look 'im in the face. That's why I took off." He raised his hands and gestured to the porch before dropping them again in defeat. "Doesn't help knowin he's used t' shit like that happenin to him. Even gettin it here."

Her eyes sharpened on his face. "What do you mean?"

He dug the note out of his pocket and handed it to her. "I was gonna give it to Rick. Mebbe he could find out who's leavin these."

A peculiar expression crossed Carol's face. Even stranger, she sniffed the paper and then looked at it again. Her eyes had narrowed and Daryl recognized that look.

"You know somethin?"

"I might. Leave this with me," she said, tucking it into the pocket of her paisley cardigan. "I'll make some... discrete inquiries."

Daryl snorted in amusement. "Yeah, you an discrete are great pals."

She sniffed and pretended to smooth out some imaginary wrinkles on her slacks. "It's been working very well for me so far, I'll have you know. As far as the gossip circle is concerned, I'm a full-fledged member."

"Gossip, huh?" He had to admit, usually such things didn't interest him but it was the way she had brought it up that piqued his curiosity. His slanted eyes narrowed down to bare slits. "What've you heard?"

"Oh, that maybe there's a single, available woman around here who wouldn't mind roasting a squirrel over a fire with you," she said with a knowing smile.

He ducked his head and might have even been blushing. It was hard to tell under all that scruff and long hair. "...Yeah? Who?"

"Me. Who else?" She'd made suggestive comments to him before and never had him take the bait. It was kind of their routine. This time they shared a long look that, for once, seemed to go beyond amusement. She got to her feet and tugged hard on his vest. "I'm trying out recipes and could use a guinea pig. Are you staying the night?"

"Sure. Prob'ly be best."

Smiling, she hauled him inside the house.

* * *

The power grid was out when Daryl woke up early the next morning. He could tell just by sound alone even before he tried the light switch. That subtle hum of electricity through the walls and power cords, usually undetectable to the human ear, was missing. He got off the couch, picked up his crossbow and unerringly made his way around the living room to let himself out. He could make out the silhouettes of the neighboring houses as dawn became a hint of brightening sky towards the east. It was unnerving how quiet the small community was. Everyone was sleeping peacefully away in their homes and completely oblivious to the horrors beyond the walls. It was if by erecting a wall they could forget what had happened; that life would return to normal when the truth was that they were all now an endangered minority.

He shook his head as he walked down the steps and headed left towards the lower street where Aaron and Eric's house sat four doors down from theirs. Despite it being maybe a five minute walk, he had his shoulders almost up around his ears as if fearing some sort of attack. He almost brought his crossbow up when he saw a figure sitting at the settee on the gay couple's porch. It was just Eric with a blanket around his shoulders nursing a coffee. He seemed genuinely relieved to see Daryl. "I was waiting out here hoping you would show up."

"Didn't know I was that predictable," the hunter admitted, walking up the brick steps. He nodded at the front door. "Everything all right now?"

The redhead sipped at his coffee as he thought of a response. "Aaron can be very stubborn when he wants to be."

"No shit." Daryl had caught sight of that back in the barn and, later, in the store when he had faced off against Rick. "Still stickin to his guns, huh?"

"More or less."

"Deanna couldn't change his mind? That woman is spooky as hell."

"We arrived here not long after Deanna's family did. Aaron became her informal second-in-command and confidante before more survivors started arriving and he chose a more background role. It got worse when she poorly handled a situation with a group he brought in. They-" Eric's mouth twitched and an expression of brief anger crossed his pale face before he managed to submerge whatever he had been about to say. "The man and two of his people were eventually exiled, but things were never the same between her and Aaron after that."

"So he's got some pull, that's what you're sayin." It said quite a bit that Aaron could tell Deanna what job Daryl would best be suited for instead of making it a suggestion.

"He's not intimidated by her," Eric said as his answer. "It didn't help that he was drunk. Their argument got quite heated. By the end of it, all she could get out of him was that he would think about it. She'll be back for Round Two in a couple of hours." For the first time that morning, the younger man betrayed a faint smile. "That's why I'm glad you're here."

Daryl frowned at him. "Why?"

"Because I want the both of you out of Alexandria before there is a Round Two."

The downstairs of Aaron and Eric's house was an open concept design with the dining room and kitchen dominating the right side and the small living room on the left. It was well lived-in and instantly inviting, filled with antique furniture and bric-a-brac that clearly had been collected during the pair's travels. The walls were covered with licenses and old store signs and more than one old camera was lying around amidst an assortment of candlesticks, books, and –in more than one place- an antler or animal skull. It was a man's home that had a subtle effeminate charm that cleverly displayed the couple's unique eclectic tastes without appearing gaudy or crude.*

For whatever reason, Daryl genuinely enjoyed coming in here. Every time he did, he noticed something new. This time, it was the figure sprawled in an ungainly heap across the velour sofa.

"Jeez, he still sleepin?" The archer asked, frowning over at Eric. "He was hammered 'fore it was even noon."

Eric stared down at his boyfriend with a worried expression on his face. "Uhm, yeah. Slipping one of my pain pills into his coffee might've had something to do with that..."

"Why the hell'd ya go an do a dumb thing like that for?"

Bracing his crutches under his armpits, Eric waved both his arms. "I wanted him to calm down!"

"Y'know what? You two are a real piece of work," Daryl muttered. He placed both pinky fingers into his mouth and suddenly whistled as hard as he could.

With an unmanly yelp, Aaron catapulted himself off of the sofa and fell to the floor with a thud. He looked around for a few frantic seconds before squinting disbelievingly up at Daryl. "What the hell-?!" His normally husky voice was a rusty croak.

"Rise n shine. Time to hit the road, man."

Before the befuddled recruiter could even get out a single word, Eric said, "The power is out. There's bottled water and fresh towels in the bathroom for you. I've already packed your backpack and put the supplies in the car."

"C'mon, time's wastin!" Daryl barked, clapping his hands.

Staggering to his feet, Aaron ran a hand through his short curly hair while visibly gathering his composure. He blinked owlishly at the picture window, noticing how dark it was still outside, and then turned and looked at Daryl. With his pale face and the stubble coating his lower jaw, it was clear he wasn't at one hundred percent, but those grey-blue eyes were just as sharp as ever. "I haven't made my decision yet."

Daryl had to submerge an almost-overwhelming impulse to jump over the sofa and smack the living piss out of him. "I'm making it for us. Let's go!"

He didn't budge and that bottom lip tucked in and Daryl realized it was about the only tell he'd ever betray to show when he was getting angry. He decided to switch tactics, although he was sorely out of practice with conversation that didn't involve insults. "Your approach... it's a smart play. Mebbe me and mine wouldn't'a gotten into so much shit if we'd gone that way. Old habits die hard is all I'm sayin. Chalk that first run as a loss and let it go."

The tension in Aaron's shoulders shifted and they dropped a little. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. "I just don't want any more deaths on my conscience."

"You goin it alone? You won't make it a day. How's that gonna make him feel?" He nodded his head at Eric who was watching their exchange closely, clearly wanting to put his two cents in but wanting to see how it would play out first. Daryl didn't want to pin the guilt card on Aaron but he knew that the redhead was the only weakness the other man had. He dropped the bomb by saying: "It isn't true what you said. You ain't expendable."

Eric's eyes grew very wide when he heard that. He looked in disbelief at Daryl and then over at Aaron who immediately dropped his eyes to the floor. "You... Did you actually say that?"

Aaron swallowed. "I... Eric, I-"

"Why would you say that? Why would you even think it?!"

His work done, Daryl walked past the raging redhead and let himself into the garage to do a check on his motorcycle. Even when he closed the door, he could hear Eric yelling, the clear edge of panic in his higher pitched voice and, almost as an afterthought, the low undertone of Aaron's humbled responses. "Proud to be a bachelor," he murmured under his breath and got to work making a few alterations to the bike.

He was wheeling it out of the garage when the back door of the house opened. Aaron was dressed in his customary hiking clothes and still trying to get a word in edgewise as he back-pedaled out into the yard. Eric paused to grab him by the front of his shirt, reel him in for a perfunctory kiss and then pushed him back so hard it sent him stumbling. "And you damn well better be safe out there because I love you, you idiot!" was his final statement on the subject before slamming the door closed in his boyfriend's face.

Daryl had to privately admit, he was enjoying watching the pair interact far more then he ever suspected he would.

Aaron stared at the door and then slowly turned around and walked over to where Daryl was standing in the driveway. He glared at the older man but there was really no malice to his eyes. He looked like any one who'd had just had a strip torn off him by his better half. In the aftermath of domestic squabbles like that, the best thing to do was retreat until all was clear. Daryl had been counting on it.

"That was a really dirty move back there. You know that, right?"

"I know it," Daryl said with a hint of a smile. "But it got yer ass movin."

"It got it chewed off is what it did." Aaron glowered at him for a few seconds more and then sighed and shrugged it off with a dry snort. "What the hell... I deserved it." He considered Daryl for a moment. "I'm offering you one last chance to back out."

This time, Daryl didn't even favor him with a response. He just straddled the seat and kick-started the bike. At the loud rumble of the muffler, Aaron squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. With a devious smirk, Daryl gunned the accelerator before letting it off and joked; "How's the head?"

Aaron looked a bit paler than he had a few seconds before. "Roamer Piss hangovers are bad, but a hangover from Togolese Sodabi cut with kerosene? Those were the worst," he admitted.

It was peculiar comments like that one that made Daryl remember the younger man had been quite a world traveler before the shit hit the fan. He looked at Aaron sidelong for a moment and finally remarked, "I gotta feelin you've got some really interestin stories rattling around in that head'a yours."

"Oh, I've got a few." He betrayed a faint smile.

"Any funny ones?" At Aaron's perplexed stare, he explained, "Been a long time since I've heard anythin funny is all."

"I'm sure I can come up with a couple of memorable exploits."

"Cool. I'll hear one at our next stop. We're heading east."

Aaron paused by the driver's side door of The Monstrosity. "East? Any particular reason?"

"Jus wanna feel the sun on my face is all." Daryl favored him with as sincere a smile as he'd ever given anyone.

It was a smile that was immediately returned. "Alright," Aaron said and that was the end of it. He got into the car and started the engine, waiting for Daryl to take the lead in his bike and following him out of Alexandria into the unknown.

* * *

**Epilogue:**

There was the usual post-dawn routine in the weapons storage and armory as Tobin and his construction crew selected their weapons while Olivia, the Inventory manager, carefully wrote everything down. She had a checklist of all of the weapons in stock and took note on what was removed, the type of ammunition needed, and number of rounds or bullets being taken. When the men left, she started writing it all down on the large dry erase board on the wall.

"What flavor are we using today?" asked a voice from the doorway.

With a shocked gasp, the plump woman turned around and saw who had joined her. She readjusted her glasses and offered a surprised smile. "Carol! Good morning. I'm surprised to see you-"

"Smells like grape," she said, plucking the marker from the woman's hand and sniffing it.

"...Carol?"

"And this one is strawberry, right?" Carol picked a marker off the shelf. She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and unfolded it, revealing the words DON'T COME BACK that were written in red marker. "Smells the same as what's written on this note. Huh. What a coincidence."

Olivia's mouth worked for a moment, struggling to find words, before she asked in a halting voice, "Uhm, where-where did you find that?"

Carol crumpled it up and dropped it to the floor. "It doesn't matter. From now on, you're going to leave Aaron and Eric alone. You hear me?"

The other woman's face instantly flushed in anger. "Do you know what they are?"

"Saviors? Heroes? Two men braver than anyone else in this town."

"Sodomites!" Olivia cried. "As it's said in Leviticus 18: 'You shall not lie with a male as with a woman. It is an abomination'. And in 20, 'If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them-'" Her words were cut off with a direct slap across the face. Her glasses went flying and when she instinctively bent to pick them up, Carol grabbed a handful of dark hair and pulled her face close to her own.

"Listen to me closely, sweetheart," Carol said with a faint smile. "If you don't knock it off I'm going to tell."

"Deanna would never exile me for-"

"I'm not talking about Deanna. You saw who I came in with, right? You've seen what some of them can do?"

Olivia betrayed a nervous swallow. Of course word had gotten around about Sasha's sharp-shooting skills. Of Daryl's aggression. Abraham's strength. Maggie's intelligence. And the leader of them all, Rick Grimes, who was swaggering around their community as if he owned it. Oh yes, the entire town knew about this group and it clearly showed on the woman's scared face.

Carol was glad to see the recognition. "We are all very grateful to Aaron and Eric for saving our lives. We would do anything for them." Carol leaned in closer until their noses were almost touching. "Anything. So I don't want to hear about any more notes or looks or whispers about them. If I do, I'll tell. You won't know who it'll be until it's too late for you. Understand?"

"U-u-understood," Olivia whispered.

Carol smiled and gently patted her cheek. Then she picked up the glasses and handed them to her. "That's nice to hear. I wouldn't want our friendship to, well, end. You know? It'd be such a shame."

Trembling, the woman put on her glasses and managed a palsied nod.

"That's good," Carol said, getting to her feet. "I'll let you get back to work. Have a great day," she said and walked out of the armory as if nothing had happened, leaving Olivia where she was sitting on the floor, shedding frightened tears.

Hearing that just made Carol's smile grow wider. She stepped outside onto the porch and raised her face to the rising sun. "I'm really starting to like this town," she said to herself and walked out into the street with a skip to her step, humming a happy tune.

-End.


End file.
